


Drunken Phone Call

by apples4ryuk



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Hiddlesworth, M/M, mentions of chris hemsworth/elsa pataky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-19 23:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apples4ryuk/pseuds/apples4ryuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom always had a crush on Chris, there was no doubt about it. He could hardly contain himself whenever he was around the man. He knew that Chris had been stressed out recently, what with the coming of the baby and everything going on with The Avengers.</p>
<p>But he never knew in his wildest dreams it would come to this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunken Phone Call

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 coming sooner or later~

_Finally!_

Tom sighed quietly, stretching out his arms as he entered his flat. He hung his coat up on the rack before gently closing the door and locking it, intending to take the rest of the night off. His cell buzzed on a table nearby just as he slipped out of his shoes, but he chose to ignore it. It couldn’t be important anyway – probably just one of the guys wanting to go out for a drink.

He wasn’t in the mood tonight. It had been a long day of shooting and he messed up a few scenes that he shouldn’t have. No, Tom didn’t need a drink: he needed a long, hot bath, and maybe a good read with some tea before bed. He had enough on his mind, and he didn’t want to bring his friends down with his glum mood.

And yet when Tom stripped and stepped into the bathroom, setting his phone on the edge of the sink, it started buzzing again. He frowned and wrapped a towel around his waist, looking to see who kept calling him.

It felt as if his heart had jumped off of a thousand foot cliff. He gulped audibly, though no one was around to hear it, and hesitantly answered the call.

“Chris?” he asked tentatively. The man on the other end startled him with a hearty chuckle, followed by some incoherent sentence. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Are you alright?”

_“Oh, quit acting so oblivious Tom,”_ came the reply from the other man. Tom arched a brow, not quite understanding Chris’ implication.

“I’m not sure what you mean by that, Chris,” he replied. “Have you been drinking?” A sigh on the other end of the line.

_“Yeah,”_ Chris admitted. _“I miss you so much, love. Why’d it take so long for you to answer?”_

Tom blushed and quickly responded, “Wha—Chris, you’re drunk! This is Tom, not Elsa. I think it’s best if you hang up and sleep it off. We’ll talk tomorrow, I’ve had a long day.”

_“Oh, poor Tom, he had a long day. Maybe I should come over and help you…_ relax _.”_

Tom inhaled sharply and stayed silent for a moment. “I— _what_?” he demanded. “Chris, do you even realize what you’re saying?”

Still, the Brit felt an uncomfortable and unwelcome heat settling into his belly. He pressed his thighs together after sitting on the edge of the tub, holding them there in an attempt to make his arousal disappear. If Chris could do this to him with drunken slurs, he’d hate to think how he’d be affected by the man’s presence next time he saw him – which, he told himself, was not going to be tonight.

Chris’ chuckle took him out of his thoughts. _“Come on, Tom. Please? Been a bit rough for me too lately, filming so many movies and all, with Elsa pregnant and…”_

Tom sighed and removed the towel from his waist, draining the already full bathtub.

“Fine,” he said. “But only so you can sleep off your drunkenness.”

Chris laughed on the other end, a jolly sound that made Tom’s stomach flip before rapidly saying he’d be there in some minutes and hanging up without a proper goodbye.

Minutes? Tom’s brow rose, pondering if Chris was so drunk as to think he’d actually be at Tom’s flat in mere minutes. Unless he was already in London… But that only made Tom wonder why, if he was, already in London. He didn’t recall Chris ever mentioning filming any scenes in the U.K. for any of his upcoming films…

 

Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later there was a knock on Tom’s door. He set down the two cups of tea he’d just made and slowly walked to the door, checking the peephole just in case. Then again, who else would come to his home around midnight? Tom shook his head before opening the door.

And then Chris smiled, and Tom’s stomach did a crazy flip. He couldn’t help but reciprocate the action, unable to hold in his cheeky grin. Chris made his way inside, clumsily hanging his coat next to Tom’s. The Brit crinkled his nose a bit as he shut the door; Chris reeked of liquor.

When Tom turned around to go into the kitchen, he was startled at how close Chris was to him. He gasped, hand flying to his chest as his back made contact with the door. He laughed nervously and said, “Chris! You scared the hell out of me. Are you… Are you feeling alright?”

He could almost taste the alcohol on Chris’ breath. Tom gulped, his mouth having suddenly become dry. The look in Chris’ eyes was painful; Tom couldn’t guess what was going on in his mind. All he knew was that Chris was far too close, and it was hard for him to keep his urges under control.

Then Chris choked out a sob, bringing a fist to his mouth as he looked away from Tom. He wiped away some tears that had leaked from his eyes, forcing a smile as he apologized. “Sorry, mate… I, uh, I smell tea.”

“Oh, um – it’s alright, no worries. Yes, I made some – shall we?” He moved to the side, around Chris’ still form and gestured toward the kitchen. The large Australian nodded his thanks and followed Tom closely.

 

They sat at the table for a while. Tom tried not to glance too much at the clock on the wall – it had been almost an hour. He tried to get Chris talking, but whatever was bothering him made it difficult for the Australian to explain. He choked up every time he opened his mouth. So, Tom settled for drinking his tea in silence, waiting for Chris to feel comfortable enough to talk.

It didn’t matter that he had to get up early the next morning. He’d miss a day for Chris, he’d do anything for him. Anything to get him to smile again.

Tom excused himself to the loo. There was a lot going on in his mind right now, but he wouldn’t allow himself to think. He needed to be there for Chris. He needed to comfort his _friend_.

Ah, yes, his _friend…_

Tom stepped out of the bathroom, startled once again by Chris’ ever-noticeable presence. He was examining something on the side table in the hallway, smiling mischievously at Tom. “It’s rude to go through your host’s things,” the Brit joked.

“It’s also rude to keep magazines filled with bookmarked pages of photos and interviews of your coworker and friend,” Chris retorted. “Really, Tom? Out magazine? I always had my suspicions, but…”

“And what’s that supposed to mean, Chris?” Tom asked, his cheeks dark red. He crossed his arms and frowned at the man before him. “You came to me for help, for comfort. If you’re going to pick fights in an attempt to make yourself feel better, please take it elsewhere. You know where the door is.”

With that he stomped off, trying to contain the hot tears that burned his eyes. He knew Chris was drunk, and he was probably saying things he didn’t mean – but it still hurt. It hurt to know that Chris laughed at the fact that he had a crush on him. He knew the man was married, and expecting a child, but Tom couldn’t help his feelings. He couldn’t ignore the tightness in his gut as he heard Chris’ footsteps behind him.

“Tom,” Chris said. That was the only warning, if you could call it that, that Tom received; as he turned to shout at Chris, to throw him out, the Australian had come too close again. His large, rough hands settled comfortably on Tom’s cheeks, his lips coming close until – _oh_ – and Tom’s heart leapt, catching in his throat as he stood immobile. Chris was kissing him.

_Kissing him._

It didn’t take too long for Tom to realize how wrong this was. He pushed at Chris’ chest, tried to pry the hands off his face, but Chris only held on tighter. The Australian finally removed his lips from Tom’s, previously unseen tears cascading down the light stubble on his cheek.

“Tom, I feel – I can’t explain it. Elsa’s been terrible lately, and I, I just always think of you, mate, and it makes it all better,” he rambled, his thumb rubbing Tom’s warm cheeks. “I think of all the times we’ve had, you know? It’s always a blast filming with you and every time, I love being with you, that’s what gets me through the day – knowing I get to spend it with you. I don’t know what to do, Tom. I don’t know.”

The Australian buried his face in Tom’s shoulder, bringing his arms down to wrap around the slightly shorter man’s shoulders. He hugged him tight, and Tom just couldn’t quite grasp what had just happened. He wrapped his arms around Chris’ midsection, rubbing his lower back soothingly.

“I… I don’t know what to say to that, honestly,” he whispered, smiling a bit when Chris’ body shook with quiet laughter. “It’ll be okay, Chris… You have to get past this. For your family, for Elsa and the baby.”

“You just don’t get it, do you, Tom?” Chris questioned, pulling away. He pressed his lips on Tom’s again, softly, silently begging the Brit to kiss back. Tom felt his self-control slipping, his lips moving of their own accord as he kissed back. He groaned quietly upon feeling Chris’ fingers run through his curls, pulling him as close as possible.

The next thing he knew, Chris’ tongue was running along his lips, and for some reason he gave in to the temptation. He couldn’t contain the low growl in his throat as Chris’ tongue shoved itself into his mouth, swallowing Tom’s moans and exploring every inch of him. He tasted of minty tea and chocolate – Chris couldn’t help but grin against his lips. The man always had a thing for chocolate.

Then Tom pulled back. He breathed heavily, eyebrows scrunched as he looked apologetically to Chris. “Chris, I… I can’t. I can’t do that to you, to Elsa.”

Chris’ jaw clenched as he glared at Tom. “Are you that blind, Tom?” he whispered, his hands gripping the Brit’s shoulders tightly, almost to the point of pain. “I want you. I only want _you_.”

Tom couldn’t believe what he was doing; he couldn’t believe he even had the opportunity _to_ do this. But instead of giving in, he stepped away from Chris, biting his lip uncomfortably. “I think you should get some sleep, Chris.”

It was quiet for a while, until Chris sighed heavily and moved past Tom toward the front door. Tom heard him put his coat on before opening the door. There was a pause, it seemed – then Tom heard the soft click of the door being shut, and he broke down.

He doubted he’d ever hear from Chris again.


End file.
